“After that, my blood was up.  I’d just got to get a look into that room.  It was up to me to figure out how.  I noticed that there was a long branch running out from the tree in the right direction.  If I could only swarm about half-way along it, the proposition would be solved.  But it was mighty uncertain whether it would bear my weight.  I decided I’d just got to risk that, and I started.  Very cautiously, inch by inch, I crawled along.  The bough creaked and swayed in a nasty fashion, and it didn’t do to think of the drop below, but at last I got safely to where I wanted to be.

“The room was medium-sized, furnished in a kind of bare hygienic way.  There was a table with a lamp on it in the middle of the room, and sitting at that table, facing towards me, was Whittington right enough.  He was talking to a woman dressed as a hospital nurse.  She was sitting with her back to me, so I couldn’t see her face.  Although the blinds were up, the window itself was shut, so I couldn’t catch a word of what they said.  Whittington seemed to be doing all the talking, and the nurse just listened.  Now and then she nodded, and sometimes she’d shake her head, as though she were answering questions.  He seemed very emphatic—­once or twice he beat with his fist on the table.  The rain had stopped now, and the sky was clearing in that sudden way it does.

“Presently, he seemed to get to the end of what he was saying.  He got up, and so did she.  He looked towards the window and asked something—­I guess it was whether it was raining.  Anyway, she came right across and looked out.  Just then the moon came out from behind the clouds.  I was scared the woman would catch sight of me, for I was full in the moonlight.  I tried to move back a bit.  The jerk I gave was too much for that rotten old branch.  With an almighty crash, down it came, and Julius P. Hersheimmer with it!”

“Oh, Julius,” breathed Tuppence, “how exciting!  Go on.”

“Well, luckily for me, I pitched down into a good soft bed of earth—­but it put me out of action for the time, sure enough.  The next thing I knew, I was lying in bed with a hospital nurse (not Whittington’s one) on one side of me, and a little black-bearded man with gold glasses, and medical man written all over him, on the other.  He rubbed his hands together, and raised his eyebrows as I stared at him.  ‘Ah!’ he said.  ’So our young friend is coming round again.  Capital.  Capital.’

“I did the usual stunt.  Said:  ‘What’s happened?’ And ’Where am I?’ But I knew the answer to the last well enough.  There’s no moss growing on my brain.  ’I think that’ll do for the present, sister,’ said the little man, and the nurse left the room in a sort of brisk well-trained way.  But I caught her handing me out a look of deep curiosity as she passed through the door.

“That look of hers gave me an idea.  ‘Now then, doc,’ I said, and tried to sit up in bed, but my right foot gave me a nasty twinge as I did so.  ‘A slight sprain,’ explained the doctor.  ’Nothing serious.  You’ll be about again in a couple of days.’ "